Chapter 112: Volume 2, - 112: The Alvalade List

Chapter 112: Volume 2, Chapter 112: The Alvalade List

The morning mist was still lifting off the Tagus when Rayan pushed through the glass doors of the Alcochete complex.

He dropped his kit bag onto the bench in the youth changing room, unlacing his trainers while the hum of air conditioning filled the quiet corridor. It felt like every other Friday morning: the sharp scent of clean floor detergent, the clatter of studs on tile from the physio room down the hall, and the steady, familiar routine of MD-2 preparation.

He pulled on his navy training tee and grey shorts, slinging his boot bag over his shoulder. On his way out toward the main pitch, he passed the administrative bulletin board near the media office where printouts were pinned daily under a clear plastic sleeve.

A fresh sheet of paper sat clipped beneath the sleeve, the paper smooth and uncreased: Troféu Cinco Violinos vs. Villarreal CF – Estádio José Alvalade (30/07/2023) – Squad Call-Up & Matchday Operational Protocol.

Rayan stopped. His eyes scanned down the printed black text, skipping past the established senior names—Adal, Coatez, Inásio, Gyoker, Gonsalves, Morino—until his gaze hit the lower section reserved for provisional additions.

RAYAN DUARTE (YTH)

DUARTE FARIA (YTH)

Rayan stared at his name printed beside eighty-two. Estádio José Alvalade. Not a pre-season pitch in Faro behind closed gates, and not a youth fixture on Pitch 1 at Alcochete. The main stadium.

"Don’t burn a hole through the paper, kid," a voice called out behind him.

Rayan turned quickly to see Rui stepping out of the coaches’ office with a clipboard tucked under his arm. Rayan adjusted his posture instantly, pulling his hands out of his shorts pockets.

"Boss. Am I... is this the final list?" Rayan asked, keeping his voice carefully level.

"It’s the operational event group for Sunday," Rui said, stopping beside him and tapping the glass sleeve with the back of his pen. "You and Duarte report with the squad tomorrow for MD-1, and you travel to Alvalade on the team bus on Sunday afternoon. That is all it means."

Rayan swallowed, nodding once. "Yes, Boss"

"Listen to me, Rayan," Rui continued, his tone flat and uncompromising. "You are included in the matchday group because we need structural cover across the wide areas. You are not guaranteed a single minute on that pitch. Selection for the bench is not a reward, and it is not a debut. Clear?"

"Yes, Boss. Clear."

"Good. Boot up. Pitch Two in five minutes."

Rayan walked out into the humid morning air, his pulse hammering against his ribs despite his effort to look detached. He spotted Duarte sitting on the low concrete wall near the water station, tightening the laces on his left boot.

"Did you see the board?" Rayan asked, dropping down on the wall beside him.

Duarte didn’t look up immediately. He finished tying a double knot, pulled the tongue of his boot straight, and then glanced sideways at Rayan. "Yeah. I saw it."

"Alvalade," Rayan said softly, looking toward the main training pitches. "We’re on the bus to the stadium."

"It’s a twenty-four-man event squad for a trophy friendly," Duarte said smoothly, picking up his water bottle. "They always take six extra players for the bench when there are unlimited summer substitutions. Don’t start acting like we’re in the starting eleven."

Rayan looked at him, searching Duarte’s face for the usual competitive grin, but Duarte’s expression remained unusually guarded. Duarte picked up his shin guards and stood up, walking toward the pitch boundary without saying another word.

"Line up!" Rui called out from the center circle. "Positioning grids! Two touches, strict shape!"

The MD-2 session was fast and relentless. Because it was two days out from Sunday’s match, the physical load was lighter than Thursday’s double-grid session, but the tactical focus was unforgiving.

Ten minutes into the positional play, Inásio clipped a low pass across the central zone toward Rayan. For a fraction of a second, Rayan’s focus slipped, his mind drifting to the green seats of Alvalade, the tunnel lights, and the crowd noise echoing down from the steep stands.

The ball skittered off the outer edge of his right boot, rolling harmlessly into touch.

"Rayan!" Rui’s bark cut through the air instantly. "Where are you right now? On the bench in Lisbon?"

Ricardo Esgaia snorted into his shirt collar, while Daniel Braga grinned as he reset his defensive stance. Rayan felt his ears burn red.

"No, Boss!" Rayan called back, clapping his hands together. "My bad!"

"Focus on the grass under your boots!" Rui warned. "If you daydream on Sunday, you won’t even make it off the bench to warm up!"

During the water break, Pedro Gonsalves jogged over to the coolers, wiping sweat from his forehead with his shirt collar. He looked at Rayan, who was frantically checking his positioning notes on his phone screen under the bench shade.

"Hey, Rayan," Pedro said, kicking the side of Rayan’s boot lightly. "You ever been inside Alvalade on a matchday?"

Rayan looked up. "I went to a Clássico against Porto with my dad two years ago. We were in the upper tier behind the goal."

Pedro laughed, shaking his head as Viktor Gyoker walked over to grab a drink. "No, kid. I mean down on the grass. Looking up at forty thousand people while the anthem plays."

"He hasn’t," Gyoker grunted, unscrewing a water bottle with one hand. "His shirt is three sizes too big. He looks like he stole it from the fanshop."

"Just don’t freeze in the tunnel," Pedro teased, throwing a light arm over Rayan’s shoulder before jogging back out. "The stairs up to the pitch are steeper than they look."

Rayan forced a small laugh, though his stomach churned with a sudden spike of nerves.

When the session concluded, Rayan walked back to the locker room and pulled out his phone to check the operational group memo that had just been uploaded to the internal team app. He opened the PDF, scanning the practical details over and over to make sure he didn’t miss a single line:

SATURDAY (MD-1):

09:30 – Mandatory arrival at Alcochete.

10:30 – Final tactical walkthrough & set-piece review.

12:30 – Squad lunch (Dining Hall A).

SUNDAY (MATCHDAY):

15:00 – Squad reporting time at Alcochete.

15:30 – Pre-match meal & tactical briefing.

17:15 – Team bus departure to Estádio José Alvalade.

Kit requirement: Official Sporting CP travel tracksuit (Navy/Grey).

Note: Bench allocation & warm-up rotations determined post-briefing.

Rayan read the travel tracksuit requirement three times. He had never been issued the senior travel tracksuit; he would have to collect it from the equipment manager before leaving today.

He showered quickly, pulled on his street clothes, and carried his gear down the corridor toward the exit. Standing under the concrete overhang outside the main building, the afternoon sun warming the gravel path, he pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped his mother’s contact.

The line rang twice before Sofia picked up, the background ambient sound of the Santa Maria administrative clinic filtering through the speaker.

"Rayan?" she answered, her voice brisk. "Is everything okay? Are you finished with practice?"

Rayan took a deep breath, looking out over the quiet green pitches of Alcochete.

"Mum," Rayan said, keeping his voice steady and controlled. "Don’t get excited yet."